From the blog of Molly Hooper
by I'm Nova
Summary: How to pick a significant other, by Molly Hooper. Molly's love life has been rather unfortunate, as we all know. Thankfully she finally has found happiness...and wants to share. By the way, I can't believe DI Hopkins is the only one not added to characters yet! This is Hoopkins.


_Disclaimer: nothing mine (even less than usual, actually)._

 _A.N. This month's prompt from Sherlock challenges on Tumblr asked to take someone's tumblr url and use it as prompt. One of my followers kindly allowed me to use hers for this, sharpkittyteeth. Because who doesn't love cats? Also, it's February, so I felt I should contribute to Femshlash February (I won't manage the two entries though, sorry…^^''') with one of the few decent things to come out of S4, aka Hoopkins. Enjoy (hopefully)!_

From the blog of Molly Hooper

14 February

How to pick a significant other,

By Molly Hooper

I know I usually don't title my posts or anything like that, but John does (John Watson, you really should follow his blog if you don't already), and since I'd like this post to be shared I thought it might be a good idea. Not that I think I could have as much fame as him, I'm not that conceited, but I have discovered one of the truths of life, and seriously, if more people did this there would be much less unhappiness in the world.

So, I realised suddenly that I've been running my mouth, but I haven't told you how to pick a significant other yet – especially one that would make you happier than you can imagine being. Here is my secret: trust your cat's opinion.

If you don't have a cat yet, go out and get one. Pet shop, animal shelter, it doesn't matter. You certainly do not need a purebred kitty to guide your love life. Any cat is so much smarter than you (yep, even if you're a genius) – and he (or she, obviously) knows it perfectly well, and will not be hesitant to let you know as much.

Also, in the stretches between relationships, if you have a cat you still have someone who'll freely offer cuddles (on their own terms) and not require as much maintenance as most dogs do. That's quite the perk, if you ask me.

Now, assuming you have picked a cat (or been picked by one, better said, because if your cat doesn't like you he or she will lose no time in running for freedom), this does not mean that they will find you a significant other, unless you live with Puss in Boots – and I'm assuming you don't. ;-)

You still have to go out, talk to people, and make a first selection by yourself. (I know, I know, I'm shy too, I'd rather not have to…but that's unavoidable). Having a cat helps there too, though, because you will always have a number of funny anecdotes to talk about. Just be careful not to talk _only_ about that, no matter how strong the temptation may be. I know, it's hard.

When your cat truly comes in, though, is on determining if your boyfriend or girlfriend gets to stay for more than one night (sometimes you just need to have fun, and that's a great idea – don't let your cat get in the way of _that_ ). Like in centuries past, when your parents would vet prospective fiancés, only your cat truly knows better and is looking out for you.

I know, I know, you're about to object, "Molly, dear, I've read your blog, and Toby adored Jim. As, in Jim _Moriarty_ , the world's only consulting criminal, with more murder and mayhem in his curriculum than actual serial killers, whom you dated. Are you sure that you don't want to emend your statement?"

And no, I'm not. Because, you see, Jim had a trick – well, not _one_ obviously, the man didn't have a honest bone in his body – but one to deal with Toby. He stuffed his pockets with cat food. I know, it's silly, but I didn't think to check his pockets, not really something I did to prospective lovers. Can you blame Toby if he spent hours on top of Jim? He was trying to get his treat.

When I realised – because it spilled out of said pockets when he undressed more eagerly than usual – well, at that moment we laughed. I was even flattered that he would go so far to win my cat over. I did have serious words with him, though, because Toby doesn't really get to go out much, so I have to watch his weight. Jim agreed, and stopped.

You'd think Toby was already fond of him by that point, so it didn't matter, right? Well, without the incentive of food, Toby wouldn't even stay in the same room with Jim. Suddenly oh-so-shy. Of course Jim laughed it off, saying Toby was sulking for the sudden lack of enticement. Toby's reaction made me wonder, though, and I broke it off with Jim not much later.

Fine, true, I broke off with Jim because Sherlock deduced he was gay and brought evidence, but my point is that if I'd just listened to Toby I would have been fine. Besides, I'm still not sure if Jim Moriarty was actually gay, playing gay for Sherlock, bi, or just downright insane. Maybe the one reason he could stand me while he needed to manipulate me was that my work deals with dead bodies. Who knows. (Perhaps Toby, but he won't say.)

My next serious boyfriend was Tom. This one, at least, doesn't have a criminal record (that I know of), and Toby would approach him and let himself be petted without dry food to pave the way. Yup, after Jim, I checked. Can you blame me?

Tom seemed nice. I mean, a bit of an idiot (seriously, some of the things he said!) but so kind, sweet, and frankly, I needed someone I could feel superior towards for a change. Sherlock met him and didn't say a word, so at least he wasn't a murderer or something.

Well, I would say he wasn't yet. We were cuddling on the sofa, and Toby came over as usual, and he must have been in a playful mood. First he started laving Tom's feet (he had no socks on…we were _very_ comfortable with each other) and when he decided he liked the taste, Toby bit.

Now, he does this to me all the time, so I know what I'm talking about. Does it hurt? Yep, especially when he latches on the tender skin between your toes. Toby's teeth are wicked sharp, and I can promise your cat's will be too, unless they're ill (in which case, get them to a vet asap!). Will one get startled? Sure.

Beating Toby, though – swiftly, and hard – was a reaction I could not abide. When Tom hit him, I knew I needed to have him out of my life. Toby didn't mean to hurt him. What if I hurt him accidentally and he thought the best way to teach me a lesson was to beat me up? And how could I have been so blind?

I jumped up, to the defence of my kitten (I know he's adult, shut up – he'll forever be my kitten)…and the worst thing was that Tom seemed shocked by my 'overreaction' and was at the same time trying to get around me to get another kick in!

Well, I may be smaller than Tom, and generally prefer not to make a scene, but when he did that, I literally shoved him out of my door, shut it on his stupid face, threw the ring at him through the letter box, and yelled at him not to darken my doorstep ever again. And he didn't, thankfully. Maybe because he thought I was insane, but who cares. You know how they say to look how your fiancé treats waitstaff? Look how your fiancé treats your cat works, as well. (And if anyone's wondering, yup, I bought Toby a new toy and treats for a solid week, his fat be damned, to apologise for having brought Tom into his life).

Honestly, with my latest serious relationships being like that, I started to consider earnestly if actually becoming a crazy cat lady, buying another six-eight cats (at the very least) and swearing off human beings might be a more viable plan. Maybe it was a sign that I had specialised in dealing with dead bodies rather than live ones. I just wasn't cut out for it.

But then my current love appeared. Tall, dark and gorgeous, with high cheekbones, and very driven towards their job in crime-fighting. And no, I'm not talking about Sherlock Holmes.

Stella (yup, DI Stella Hopkins, for who didn't know that yet, I'm bi) is absolutely brilliant. I suspect that I fell in love as soon as she asked me out, when she added, "I've heard of you, Miss Molly Hooper, so I need to clarify that if you agree to go out with me, I will never ask overtime of you just because of that." It's two months we've been going out, and she's kept her word till now.

Anyway, we're very, very happy, and of course, after a few dates, I introduced her to Toby. I just had to. That, too, was love at first sight. Stella, whenever she has time (which, with her job, isn't too very often sadly), volunteers at an animal shelter…well, now we both do. So, of course, she knows how to deal with cats. Stella taught me that slow blinking means "I love you" in cat speak, so now if you see all three of us blinking at one another nobody is having a stroke, I promise.

When Toby bit her, just like he did Tom, she yelped – well, I would have too – and asked him to be kinder, but when he let go she laughed about it, glad Toby thought she tasted good. (As always, Toby is very wise.)

When Toby's claws got stuck in her cashmere cardigan, when we got back to mine after a date, and ruined it, she seemed to care more about his pitiful mewls than the damage to it, which I was horrified about. "Toby considers me his second mum, that's why he was kneading – and apparently a bit of claw slipped out. I'm rather proud he sees me as family. Besides, you've seen me in it, and there's no one else I want to show it off to."

So, yup, Stella is perfect. There's no doubt about it. Toby would agree. The only weird thing is that she'd fall in love with me. Anyway, it's Valentine's day, so in a few hours Stella will arrive and we'll have dinner – salmon for everyone! Rather than going somewhere fancy, we'll just stay in, all three of us. After all, Valentine's day is about love, not about facing strangers' judgement.

I am just so happy, though, that I want everyone to be happy like me. Remember: first, get a cat.


End file.
